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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952184">Getaway Car</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlinghue/pseuds/Starlinghue'>Starlinghue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Succession (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkwardness, Bad Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Homoeroticism, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Running Away, Stress Relief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:53:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlinghue/pseuds/Starlinghue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You want to hang out?" Tom actually laughed. "With me? After all the fucking bullshit we've been through in the past month?"</i>
</p><p> <i>"Yeah," said Greg, like it was the easiest thing to admit in the world. "Not to be depressing, but you're kind of the only person I have to talk to about this. About anything, really."</i></p><p>After Kendall's press conference, Greg makes an exit strategy, and Tom finds himself at a crossroads.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans, Siobhan "Shiv" Roy/Tom Wambsgans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Getaway Car</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written from the mindset of Kendall and Greg just being done with everything at the end of S2. The press conference wasn't a ploy for power, more like a smoke bomb to accompany their dramatic retreat from corporate hell.</p><p>Basically, I wanted Tom and Greg to ride off into the sunset together and escape the Roy family circus, so this is as close to that as I could get.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shiv came running back into their cabin like a hurricane. Her face was contorted into an expression of hopeless anger, and she was breathing heavily in that way that she normally did when she was in desperate need of physical reassurance. A hug, a touch. Any form of solid contact to keep her from crumbling.</p><p>Tom didn't stand. He remained firmly planted on the far corner of their king size bed and only looked at her, waiting for the floodgates to open. </p><p>"You saw what happened right?" Shiv asked, voice wavering. "Everything is blown to shit."</p><p>Even though Tom had made a point of not going to watch the press conference with her and Logan, of course he'd still <i>watched it</i>. How could he not? He figured he owed Kendall that much for taking the fall. But as soon as Kendall had finished speaking, Tom had put his phone down against the sheets and found himself staring at a shadow on the wall for at least five minutes straight. Maybe more, depending on how long it took Shiv to come running back down to him.</p><p>"He— He killed Dad," Shiv spluttered, angry, indignant. "He basically killed the company! What the fuck was he thinking? And where did he get those documents anyway? What the <i>fuck</i>."</p><p>Tom hadn't given much thought to Greg leaving early. It wasn't as if it had been a pleasant trip for anyone on board, and Greg flying back with Kendall, offering him company on his death march, well, it was almost heroic of him. No one else seemed to have the stomach to watch Kendall dig his own grave.</p><p>But of course Greg was better than that, the sneaky fuck. Tom wished he could applaud him, or even bow at his feet. He'd stolen those documents out from under his nose twice, now. Greg was either ridiculously smarter than he looked, or Tom was an incompetent idiot. But it didn't really matter. Nothing mattered, now.</p><p>"Tom, will you please say something? You're fucking scaring me." Shiv nearly shouted, and it was the tears in her eyes that finally got him to stand up and cross the room. She reached out and grabbed his arm like it would anchor her, keep her to the spot, keep her from floating out to space.</p><p>"I think he did the right thing," Tom admitted, knowing it was careless of him, knowing that it was the exact opposite of what she needed to hear.</p><p>Shiv recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Tom noted that his arm felt so much lighter without her fingers digging into his sleeve. "What the fuck? Are you serious? You know what he just did, right? You know the repercussions this has on the proxy battle, not to mention the fucking legal ramifications. My Dad could—"</p><p>Tom found himself interrupting her, something he rarely ever did. "He could go to jail. He probably will go to jail, and he'll get out early on a ridiculously good sentence because he's got more money than a small continent. It doesn't change the fact that he deserves it."</p><p>"He <i>deserves</i> it?" Shiv's eyes seemed to burn, blue and furious. "Fuck you, Tom. I asked him to save you and he did. Kendall's the one fucking all of us here, or are you still too busy pouting to realize that?"</p><p>"Pouting," Tom repeated, and the word was bitter in his mouth. "Right."</p><p>Shiv's expression slackened. She knew she'd fucked up. "I didn't mean it like that."</p><p>She reached for him again, hands settling on his shoulders. Tom didn't push her away. He remained still, like a stone statue, an imitation of a man. Shiv's rock, just like she always wanted him to be, just like he always was.</p><p>Shiv bit her lip, looking anxiously around the cabin. "But you know this is crazy, right? We have to get back to the city. We have to see if we can salvage this shit show. Dad's being eerily calm about the whole thing, I'm worried he might have another stroke."</p><p>"Right, okay." Tom mumbled, too exhausted to fight with her. "I'll pack our things."</p><p>"Fucking Kendall!" Shiv hissed, and then she stormed out of the room just as quickly as she came. A couple of decks above their cabin, Tom could hear the faint sounds of overlapping shouts. He recognized Roman's voice.</p><p>For a moment, he just stood there alone, knowing that as soon as he moved, he would be heading full speed towards a future full of messy legal conferences, family disappointment,  and financial uncertainty. He glanced at his phone, still discarded on the bed, lying face down as if it would hide the truth.</p><p>After a beat of hesitation, Tom picked it up and thumbed through his contacts until he found Greg's name. The last text Greg sent him was an update on how his flight home had been the night before. He'd claimed it was <i>uneventful</i>.</p><p>Tom typed out a quick message. A single sentence, straight to the point: <i>You're a good person.</i></p><p>He didn't wait to see if Greg would reply right away. He just grabbed Shiv's suitcase and started packing.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It ended up taking Greg four entire hours to respond, by which point Tom and Shiv and the rest of their not-so-merry vacation crew were riding back to New York in Logan's private jet. Everyone had been talking non stop since they'd boarded, all huddled together in their seats at the front of the plane like they were in a war room.</p><p>Tom was the only one who hadn't actively been trying to get a word in edgewise. Under the guise of a migraine, he was sitting alone towards the rear of the plane with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the table in front of him. No one was really looking at him anyway, which he was grateful for. He wasn't exactly up for dealing with any of them considering that they had all been ready to throw him under the bus less than twenty-four hours ago.</p><p>Greg's text came as a gentle surprise, since Tom was just beginning to accept that he would be spending the entire plane ride sitting alone, brooding in silence. When he started scrolling through his many notifications— missed calls, emails, and a bombardment of social media updates— his heart leapt to his throat when he saw Greg's message buried among them.</p><p>
  <i>You're not mad?</i>
</p><p>Tom nearly laughed reading it, it just was so ridiculously genuine. Of course Greg was still worried about his feelings. Somehow, he hadn't let his heart and soul get chewed up and shit out by all of the Roy family corporate bullshit.</p><p><i>No, I'm not mad.</i> Tom sent back, and then before he could have time to regret it, he added, <i>Actually, I think you're pretty brave.</i></p><p>Greg answered him again within the span of two minutes. <i>I was going to do this if we were the ones in the hot seat. That's why I held onto some of the stuff. I'm no hero.</i></p><p><i>Bullshit</i>, Tom refuted quickly. <i>You're a fucking saint.</i></p><p>Greg avoided the praise by asking <i>Are you guys on your way back?</i></p><p><i>Yeah. The whole coralle. Everyone's pissed.</i> Tom replied, then realized he should've clarified— <i>Pissed at Ken. They're not really focused on your role in this. Not yet, anyway.</i></p><p><i>Can U call me when U land?</i> Greg asked. Tom knew from experience that the shorthand spelling was something he tended to do when he was nervous. Or drunk. Or both.</p><p>Either way, Tom promised he would. He even set a reminder in his phone so he wouldn't forget.</p><p>Shiv walked over a few minutes later to check in. "You doing okay over here?"</p><p>"Yeah, just wading through a maelstrom of emails." Tom chuckled nervously. It was suddenly remarkably easy to lie to her. "Let me know if you need anything."</p><p>Shiv nodded, squeezed his shoulder, and walked off again.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't until a good few hours after they landed that Tom was finally able to drag himself away from the action to call Greg. As soon as they'd touched down in New York, everyone had been driven out to Logan's Fifth Avenue townhouse to continue their frantic strategizing on how to handle the bomb Kendall had thrown in their path. Tom stayed as quiet as he could, only speaking when spoken to, really playing into the idea that he was still dumbfounded and in shock. It wasn't as if anyone was missing his input, anyway.</p><p>Finally Tom managed to tear himself away for a bathroom break. He triple checked the door was locked behind him and then slumped down to the floor, leaning his back against the marble counter.</p><p>Greg picked up on the third ring. "Hey! Hey, Tom."</p><p>"Hey," Tom cleared his throat. He hoped he didn't sound too distressed. "So, uh. I'm sorry for almost making you burn your safety net. I can see now how that was maybe a little bit selfish and presumptuous of me."</p><p>"No, dude, I get it." Greg's voice was pitched high and breathless. If he, like Tom, was trying to hide his nerves, he was doing a very poor job of it. "You were— You were between a rock and a hard place, you know? It was kind of every man for himself. I get why you did what you did."</p><p>"Oh, don't be so understanding Greg." Tom laughed hopelessly. "That makes it even worse."</p><p>"It's not like I kept the papers intending to do the right thing," Greg mumbled. "I kept them— I mean I was gonna—"</p><p>Tom nodded even though Greg couldn't see it, his head lightly knocking against the marble. "I know. It was your only source of ammunition. That was a smart move, getting them back before we burned them. Or maybe you always had more copies and I never knew the difference. But unloading it on <i>Logan</i> of all people? That took balls of fucking steel."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Greg sounded <i>wrecked</i>. "It all got so tangled. Everything is like, supremely fucked. But Uncle Logan had to go, right? Like, he's objectively evil, isn't he? And in the end, I mean, it was him or us."</p><p>"You and Kendall did the right thing," Tom said, and admitting it properly without Shiv's judgement felt like taking a fifty pound weight off his chest. "Seriously, Greg. I'm proud of you."</p><p>"I really thought you wouldn't be. I thought you'd hate me. Unless you do hate me and you're lying. Oh god, am I on speaker phone?"</p><p>Tom clicked his tongue against his teeth in sudden, familiar annoyance. "No, Greg, I'm hiding out alone in Logan's bathroom because if I admit to anyone that I'm on your side, I'll be red-taped as a fucking liability. I'm lucky Shiv didn't bite my head off when I told her I thought Ken made a good call."</p><p>Greg audibly sighed in relief. "So do they know? Do they know that I'm the middle man?"</p><p>Tom couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, I think they figured it out when you handed him the folder full of evidence in front of everyone at the press conference."</p><p>"Oh," Greg mumbled sheepishly. "Right. Well, shit. That's going to make next Thanksgiving kind of awkward, eh?"</p><p>Tom laughed again, this time a full on snort. </p><p>Greg laughed too, but his tone quickly sobered again. "I'm going to have to get out quick though, huh? Otherwise I'm toast?"</p><p>Something in Tom's stomach churned. "I mean, if this goes to trial, which it almost certainly will, you might be asked to testify."</p><p>"I'm kind of over trials," Greg mumbled. "If I'm being honest, I would actually prefer to go through the rest of my life without ever seeing the inside of a courtroom ever again. Especially one of those big fancy senate ones in Washington."</p><p>"No, I'm with you on that." Tom cringed at the memory. "But where will you go? If you leave?"</p><p>"Back to Canada, I guess? My Grandpa saw the press conference and I guess he had a change of heart about writing me out of his will. I've still got my proverbial meal ticket, so. Small victory. "</p><p>"Greg, you sly dog." Tom teased, hoping he was imagining the feeling of his throat closing up. "Don't tell me you did all this to get back to your quarter million inheritance? That's hardly a <i>small</i> victory."</p><p>"What? No!" Greg blurted so loudly that Tom nearly dropped his phone. "I did this because Uncle Logan was going to totally fuck us over! Us and Kendall. And it's all so fucking evil. ATN, the cruises, all of it. The whole goddamn company. And I'm just sick of it."</p><p>"Why, Greg," Tom could hear his voice cracking, could feel the emotion seeping through, but couldn't seem to stop it. "That's the most honest thing you've said in months. Good for you, buddy."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Gregg huffed, losing steam. "I'm just sorry that it had to come to all this. To me and Kendall royally and publically fucking everyone. I wish— I mean I would've given you a heads up if I could've, you know, trusted you."</p><p>"No, you were being smart by not telling me. I'm still on your side and all, but you made the right call there."</p><p>"I should probably let you go, right? They'll start wondering where you are soon."</p><p>Tom closed his eyes. He imagined Greg in his apartment, pacing in his living room with the phone in his hand, loose hairs dangling over his forehead.</p><p>"None of them really give a shit about me," Tom replied, painfully honest.</p><p>Greg was quiet for a beat. "Shiv does."</p><p>"Maybe," Tom rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't fucking know anymore."</p><p>More silence. Then Greg's voice, which suddenly seemed very small. "Would it be stupid if you came over here right now? To like, hang out?"</p><p>"You want to hang out?" Tom actually laughed. "With me? After all the fucking bullshit we've been through in the past month?"</p><p>"Yeah," said Greg, like it was the easiest thing to admit in the world. "Not to be depressing, but you're kind of the only person I have to talk to about this. About anything, really."</p><p>Tom laughed again but it sounded all wrong. "Feeling's mutual. Fuck it, sure. I'll be right over. I'll tell Shiv I'm going to check on the dog."</p><p>"Oh, <i>Mondale</i>," Greg crooned the name affectionately in a way that made Tom want to melt. "Can you bring him with you? A dog might actually be like, super therapeutic right now."</p><p>"What? No, I can't just bring Mondale over. Does your building even allow pets?"</p><p>"I don't know. Kendall owns it, so I think it's cool?"</p><p>"Fine," Tom said, fighting to stay composed. "I'll bring Mondale. I'll see you in an hour."</p><p>As it turned out, getting away from the strategy meeting was a lot easier than Tom was expecting. If anything Shiv seemed relieved to send him home. It was one less thing to worry about, he figured.</p><p>Traffic wasn't bad, either. It only took half an hour to get to the new house. Their dog-sitter, Lucy, gave a brief update on how well Mondale had been and then politely got out of Tom's hair. The drive to Greg's apartment was a little over twenty minutes, and Mondale seemed happy enough to have the extra trip fitted into his schedule.</p><p>It startled Tom, after getting buzzed into the building, to see Greg waiting for him in the lobby. He couldn't keep himself from gawking as Greg made a direct beeline for his dog. Mondale recognized him immediately, and sat diligently at Tom's feet, waiting for ear scratches. Greg, all lanky limbs and seemingly no self awareness, dropped into a crouch directly in front of Tom, looking up at him with a hesitant smile as he pet Mondale's head.</p><p>Tom had almost forgotten how infuriatingly attractive his naive, stretched out Disney prince face was up close. He smiled tightly as Greg stood back up to his full height, making all six feet and three inches of himself feel inadequate in comparison. </p><p>"Greg," said Tom, stupidly. Not even a hello.</p><p>"Thanks for coming," Greg ushered him towards the elevator. "I hope it wasn't too hard to, uh, get away? What's happening back there?"</p><p>"Total shit storm," Tom shrugged once they stepped inside. "But it's a storm Logan had coming. No one's saying it, of course, but we're all thinking it. We're all too fucking scared of him to say it."</p><p>Greg nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah, I know. It's crazy how much power his presence holds. It's scary."</p><p>Tom glanced up at him, careful not to hold his gaze too long. "Quite easy to abandon all your principles when you're trying to win the favour of a living god."</p><p>"Classic case of losing yourself to power," Greg agreed, looking tired. "Kind of like Aladdin? When he says he's going to set the Genie free but then gets cold feet once he's rich and engaged to Jasmine."</p><p>"You make the most poignant references, Greg." Tom intoned dryly, but there was no bite to it. "I never saw Aladdin, actually. I think I was in college when it came out."</p><p>Greg made an incredulous face. "Dude, you missed a cultural landmark. A reset, if you will, during the Disney renaissance."</p><p>Tom humored him with a scoff. "Oh, I'm sure."</p><p>"I'm serious, it's a good movie."</p><p>Tom didn't argue. The elevator reached Greg's floor and they shifted into a silence that was halfway heavy, halfway comforting. Mondale's claws lightly tapped against the tiled floors as they made their way down the hall. Greg unlocked his door quickly, and let Tom go in first.</p><p>Not much had changed since Tom's last visit, except that now there were scattered takeout containers across the dining room table. The air smelled faintly of soy sauce and weed.</p><p>"This isn't, like, a secret ambush, right?" Greg asked, nervously shuffling on his feet. "You're not pissed at me?"</p><p>Tom shook his head. "No, I'm really not. I genuinely think you did the right thing. Fuck, it feels so good to finally <i>say</i> that. He should go to jail for this, that creepy old fuck! He's the only reason we did all that shit in the first place, eating garbage just to cover up the misdeeds of the mighty and powerful Logan Roy. Fuck him."</p><p>"But what about your job?" Greg's eyes were open wide, pupils blown. Tom wanted to fall right into them.</p><p>"My job," he laughed derisively. "Is fucked. And I don't care. I really don't care, Greg!"</p><p>"Oh," Greg nodded in the way he usually did when he was only pretending to understand something. "You don't?"</p><p>"No, I mean— I took the job because of Shiv. My entire life and career was all hinged on my marriage, you know? And I was okay with that. I mean, I didn't come from money like this. I mean I always had money, but this kind, well, it's addictive once you get a taste of it, as you know. But I'm currently in the process of coming down from the worst fucking coke trip in the world."</p><p>Greg's whole body seemed to sag in relief. "Oh, good, me too. I'm tired of it, Tom. I want to be— well not <i>poor</i> again, but I could settle on a solid, upper middle class, you know?"</p><p>"Ha! Yeah," Tom could feel his chest constricting. "I've got half a mind to run back to Canada with you. We could be neighbors in some Toronto suburb. Think your grandpa would let you pack me up in a little suitcase to tag along?"</p><p>Greg laughed, crossing his arms and leaning forward. A few floppy, stray hairs fell over his forehead. Tom had to fight the urge to reach up and tuck them back, so he flexed his hand at his side instead.</p><p>"You really want out?" Greg asked, almost a whisper. His expression was torn between concern and relief.</p><p>In spite of himself, Tom moved forward. Greg was too surprised to back up, and when Tom's forehead came to settle on his shoulder, he didn't flinch away. It only lasted for a few seconds. The entire time, Tom listened to Greg's breath, hitched and heavy.</p><p>When he pulled back, they locked eyes. It was hard enough admitting to wanting to quit without breaking down. Tom had half a mind to just lay all his cards down right then and there, but the words were caught in his throat. "Yeah, I want out. <i>Fuck</i>."</p><p>Greg patted his shoulder twice, an awkward, light-hearted touch. "Want a beer?"</p><p>Tom laughed, blinking before tears of gratitude had a chance to well up. "Yes, please."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They ended up drinking several beers, and also smoking what was left of a pathetically small bag of skunk weed. Greg hand rolled the joints himself, and they were pretty dreadful looking as far as doobies went. Tom couldn't stop himself from laughing every time the wax paper slipped out from under Greg's long, clumsy fingers.</p><p>"Mondale is judging us hard, bro." Greg muttered at some point, pointing at Tom's beautifully behaved dog who was lying on the kitchen floor and looking at the two of them with polite interest.</p><p>Déja-vu struck Tom with sudden hilarity. "God, remember the night with the song birds? We tore the condo's kitchen apart. Shiv was pissed."</p><p>"I threw up so much in your bathroom," Greg groaned, like he was getting sick just thinking about it. "I thought I was going to die."</p><p>"You drank so much Pepto that I wouldn't have been surprised if you did." Tom snickered, and then his phone started ringing in his pocket. "Ah, shit."</p><p>He didn't have to look at the caller ID to know it was Shiv. "Hey, where the fuck are you?"</p><p>"Hi honey," Tom tried to keep his words from slurring together. Greg looked thoroughly spooked, as if he were worried Shiv would materialize from thin air and walk right into his kitchen. "I'm at Greg's."</p><p>"You're with Greg?" Shiv sounded surprised. "Oh, I thought maybe— I mean I got home and you and the dog were gone. Kind of scared me, Tom."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Tom murmured, meaning it. "I only brought Mondale because Greg said that he wanted to see him."</p><p>"Are you drunk?" Shiv laughed tersely. "Why are you even there, anyways? You're not defecting to Kendall's side, are you?"</p><p>"Well," said Tom, and it turned out it was all he needed to say. Shiv's answering sigh was like a knife in his ear.</p><p>"Nevermind. Just come home, alright? I need you with me right now."</p><p>"Right, okay. Be there soon." Tom hung up first. He hadn't done that in years.</p><p>Greg was looking at him like he was an unattended backpack in a very public space. "Everything okay?"</p><p>Tom tugged at the collar of his shirt a little, trying not to seem too petulant. "I've got to head back. Shiv needs me."</p><p>Nodding, Greg wordlessly moved to retrieve Mondale's leash from the dining room.</p><p>"She's going to ask if you told me anything, you know. About Kendall's plan."</p><p>Greg laughed, only a little forced. "I don't think he really had a plan. I think he just wanted to hurt Logan."</p><p>"Can't say I blame him," Tom muttered, maybe a touch too bitterly. When he glanced back up at Greg, he was overcome with a strange grief. "I'm sorry about the documents. And about the court case. All of it. I could've really screwed you."</p><p>Greg's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, you could've."</p><p>Tom considered his next words as carefully as he could, still hazy and a little drunk. "But what you did for Kendall, handing over the evidence— you would've done the same for me?"</p><p>Something in Greg's expression shifted. It was hard to tell what. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I owed you one."</p><p>Disbelief clawed at Tom's heart. "What on earth could you possibly owe me? I'm the worst."</p><p>"You're really not," Greg shook his head. "You could've ratted me out in Hungary when Logan made us play that fucked up game with the hot dogs. But you didn't."</p><p>"Still," Tom winced at the memory, and then he winced again at Greg calling freshly ground Hungarian wild boar sausages <i>hot dogs</i>. "I could've landed you in prison. How can you even stand me?"</p><p>Greg leaned back on his feet, posture straightening, and Tom was reminded of how obscenely tall he was. He stared at the exposed crook of Greg's neck from the loosened collar of his shirt, raking his eyes all the way up to his jaw. Greg was looking right back at him, frowning a little.</p><p>"Tom," he said gently. "I think you're okay. Underneath it all, I really think that you're kind of a good guy."</p><p>Tom rubbed a hand over his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He'd managed to avoid crying all day. "Oh, shut up, Greg. You're too fucking nice."</p><p>"Do you," Greg started to step forward, then hesitated. He crossed and uncrossed his arms. "Do you, like, need a hug?"</p><p>"Seriously?" Tom asked, and Greg nodded once, looking embarrassed. Tom thought about the fight he'd had with Shiv. He thought about how he was almost the one giving that press conference, and about the fact that if the board had decided to let Greg take the fall, he wouldn't have been able to defend him. He would've just let it happen, the same way he was going to just let it happen to Kendall. He thought about how Greg knew all this and somehow, remarkably, still wanted to be in the same room as him.</p><p>It might have been the easiest hug Tom had ever stepped into. Greg's arms felt all encompassing around his shoulders, his hands a welcome weight on his back. His shirt smelled like smoke and sweat. His cologne was still impossibly cheap. Tom let his head settle against his shoulder properly, letting it linger this time. He looped his arms around Greg's waist like he was a high-school freshman at a homecoming dance. Greg let out an exhausted breath at the reciprocated contact, and then he just really <i>held on</i> to him. </p><p>It was nice. Maybe a little too nice.</p><p>When they broke apart again, Greg was looking at him. His eyes were imploring, heavy with an emotion that was too hard to place. Tom couldn't seem to hold his gaze. He left the apartment without saying goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>By the time Shiv had finished filling him in on what he had missed, it was nearly five in the morning. It didn't really matter if they slept in, Tom still had two more vacation days to burn, the current company crisis notwithstanding.</p><p>When they climbed into bed— king sized, four posters, one thousand thread-count silk sheets that were worth every penny— the sun was just starting to come up, and the early morning streaked through the curtains in cold, eerie blue rays.</p><p>Shiv looked like a ghost in her silk pajamas, illuminated and pale. As soon as Tom lay next to her, she curled into his side and kissed his neck. Softly. <i>Apologetically.</i></p><p>Of course he relented, running his thumb along the side of her face. He couldn't remember the last time he had thought about how beautiful she was without it breaking his heart. He knew before he kissed her that she would taste like a mix of the harsh mint toothpaste they shared, and the rejuvenating coconut chapstick she put on to keep her lips from drying up overnight.</p><p>"We're okay, right?" Shiv asked, sounding deceptively small. She was always at her strongest bargaining with Tom when she spoke to him like this, when she seemed like she needed him to protect her, to take care of her.</p><p>"We're okay," Tom murmured quietly in agreement, kissing her temples, then her nose. If he said it enough times maybe they would both believe it. "We're okay."</p><p>"Okay," Shiv repeated, resting her hands on Tom's chest. "Because this is important. How you feel about us is important. I promise we're going to talk about this when things aren’t so crazy."</p><p>"It's always crazy," Tom sighed, kissing her again. He didn't want her to talk, really. He just wanted her to <i>want</i> him.</p><p>Shiv turned away, pecking his cheek once before retreating. "Let's just sleep it off for now. Maybe tomorrow we can start to make sense of all of this."</p><p>"Alright." The word sounded strangled in Tom's throat, but he knew he could blame it on a yawn. "To be continued."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, as Logan came under fire from all sides, the news hit that Kendall had left the country. No one knew if he was off gallivanting in victory, or if he was trying to track down Stewy to get back in league with him, or hell knows what. It was a while before anyone spared a thought to Naomi Pierce, an unwelcome guest at their sacrificial yacht party, left behind in Europe.</p><p>Shiv and Roman had been locked in a conspiratory phone call in the kitchen for hours. She kept him on speaker phone so Tom could listen in while he worked through the enormous, daunting pile of emails ATN was sending his way. </p><p>Roman's voice was tinny and nasally over the phone. "You think Kendall torpedoed Dad to say 'Fuck you' after he kicked his girlfriend off the boat?"</p><p>Shiv sucked in a breath, looking his way. Tom offered her a compassionate shrug. "I mean, it's possible. But Ken's never been that petty. I think something else was going on. Something really fucked must have happened between him and Dad after the bear hug."</p><p>"Yeah, no shit, Shiv-lock. I think Dad was blackmailing him or something. For what, I don't know. Maybe something stupid he did back in his really bad cokehead days. You remember how messy things were, right?"</p><p>"God, I don't think I could handle another assault scandal." Shiv muttered, leaning against the kitchen Island for support.</p><p>"Pump the brakes, sis, we both know Ken's not that guy."</p><p>"I meant physical assault. Like a bar fight."</p><p>"You think Kendall could win a bar fight? Please, even hopped up on ketamine he's gotta weigh about eighty-pounds soaking wet."</p><p>Shiv barely managed to keep herself from laughing. "He works out, you know."</p><p>"I could still take him," Roman sniffed. "And that's saying something."</p><p>It was at some point during this conversation that Tom got a notification of an email from Greg. He tried to ignore it, half paying attention to Shiv and her brother's bickering, half focused on finishing typing up a PR strategy for Cyd. Eventually, curiosity outweighed his need for productivity and he scrolled back through his inbox to find it.</p><p>The subject line read <i>Two Weeks Notice</i>.</p><p>Abruptly Tom stood up, moving so fast that he almost knocked his chair over. It skittered dangerously on the linoleum until Tom reached back and grabbed it. Across the room, Shiv started at the sound of the chair's legs reconnecting with the floor, glancing over at him as if to ask <i>what the fuck?</i></p><p>"Gotta go," Tom said, moving swiftly to kiss her goodbye. "Work emergency."</p><p>Shiv stared at him like he'd grown a second head. They had been in the middle of a work emergency since the press conference, since the court case, really, so the idea of anything more urgent coming up must have seemed absurd to her. </p><p>"I can handle it," Tom said quickly, before she had time to question him. "It's practically nothing, I just need to pop out for a bit."</p><p>Roman, who Tom had forgotten was still on the phone listening in, piped up. "Yeah, let old Wambsgans off the leash! It worked so well last time."</p><p>"Shut up, Roman." Shiv snapped, and Tom's chest warmed at her defense of him. "Okay, good luck with whatever crisis you're dealing with. I'm meeting Gerri in an hour, I'll text you before then."</p><p>"Got it," Tom nodded robotically. "Love you, bye."</p><p>Shiv smiled at him but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You, too."</p><p>Tom managed to hail a cab two minutes after he got out the door. He didn't want to take a personal driver and risk Shiv finding out he was running off to see Greg again, and he really didn't want to dwell on why he was so concerned about the idea of her figuring that out. It took about four blocks for Tom to realize he didn't know if Greg was even home. This was supposed to be an ambush, so calling ahead to determine Greg's location seemed kind of counterintuitive. It didn't really matter. Tom would wait in his hallway all night if he had to.</p><p>When he got to Greg’s building, Tom didn’t even bother buzzing for his room on the intercom like he had the night before. He still had the key code to get into the building saved in his notes app on his phone from nearly a month ago, when he’d asked Kendall for it in order to stage his little impromptu, intimidating sleepover party. Whatever good that had done him.</p><p>It was only when he stepped into the elevator that a form of physical anxiety slowly started to creep up on him. Suddenly, Tom’s breathing felt shallow, and he couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms. His heart felt like a hummingbird on caffeine. When the doors opened on Greg’s floor, all Tom could seem to do was stare down the hallway, disorientated. He could not remember why he had come here, but his legs carried him forward as if on autopilot.</p><p>Then it all rushed back to him at once. The email. Greg. <i>Leaving.</i></p><p>Tom knocked on Greg’s door like he was a southpaw fighter trying to take out an opponent. He didn’t realize he was yelling Greg’s name until suddenly the sound of it stopped, leaving only the frantic banging of his hand against the door.</p><p>It swung open so suddenly that Tom jolted forward, his hand outstretched. He nearly hit Greg in the shoulder. Greg, who was standing there  barefoot, wearing an unbuttoned, striped t-shirt and cheap cotton pajama pants. Greg, who was leaving him.</p><p>“You’re giving me your two weeks notice over an <i>email?</i> What the hell, Greg?” Tom snapped the words out all at once, not really meaning to. “You didn’t even give me a warning!”</p><p>Greg graced him with one of his typical, clueless, wide-eyed blinks. “I mean, technically, the two weeks notice is the warning— but, like, we talked about this? I thought you were okay with it.”</p><p>Tom was glad no one else lived in this building, because he was very close to screaming. He walked further into Greg’s apartment anyway, to spare them from the acoustics of the hallway. “We talked about this literally <i>yesterday</i>, Greg. Less than twenty-four fucking hours ago! You didn’t even let a full calendar day go by before you decided to pull out. That’s not fucking fair, man.”</p><p>“I’m sorry!” Greg yelled, nostrils flaring. After closing the door and turning to face Tom again, he flailed his arms in some hesitant attempt at an emphatic gesture. “I’m sorry, okay? But Kendall just left me hanging here, and I didn’t have much of a choice! Without him, I’ve got zero protection, and I have no idea when he’s coming back, if at all. I think it’s best to just cut my losses and run before Logan sends his dogs after me.”</p><p>“Bullshit, you don’t have protection! You have <i>me</i>, Greg. I’m not completely useless.” Tom scoffed, but it didn’t sound nearly as convincing as he hoped it would. Something pained crossed over Greg’s face. Tom averted his gaze as he pressed on. “And if I back you, Shiv will back me, and Logan won’t hurt Shiv.”</p><p>“She didn’t back you on the boat.” Greg muttered under his breath, and then he quickly closed his mouth, knowing he’d fucked up. It hurt Tom just the same.</p><p>“Don’t,” he started to say, nearly snarling, but one word seemed to be all he could manage. “Just don’t.”</p><p>“No,” Greg turned to frown at him, looking angrier than Tom had ever seen him. Usually during arguments, Greg was scared, frustrated, or flustered, but never <i>angry</i>. He could take so much shit that it seemed impossible that he was capable of giving it back. “No, I think you need to hear this.”</p><p>“<i>Greg</i>.” Tom said his name once. A warning.</p><p>“You’re not happy,” said Greg, ignoring him. “You’re a fucked up person, Tom, and you know that, but even you deserve to be with someone who actually cares about you.”</p><p>“Shut up!” Tom shouted, but Greg barely flinched. “You have no idea what Shiv does for me, and you have no idea what our marriage is actually like, so <i>stay out of it</i>. I’m serious, Greg.”</p><p>Greg squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up, seeming almost defiant apart from the nervous expression on his face. “Yeah, well what are you going to do? Fire me?”</p><p>Tom didn’t even think, he just moved. It was remarkably easy to reach out and shove him, the palms of his hands hitting the exposed stretch of Greg’s chest through his open shirt. Greg stumbled backwards like a clumsy deer, looking somewhere halfway between resignation and annoyance, and then, suddenly, he whirled around and shoved Tom <i>back</i>. As it turned out, his gangly arms weren’t as weak as they looked. Tom nearly lost his balance, his hip connecting with Greg’s dining room table.</p><p>It turned into an idiotic scuffle of swats and shoves, not at all dissimilar to the one they’d had on the morning of Tom’s wedding. It was a stupid, boyish thing to do, and they both knew it. Tom felt like he was back in his frat house arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes. There was no real malice behind it.</p><p>Or at least, there wasn’t until Greg’s arm connected with Tom’s nose.</p><p>“Fuck!” Tom reeled back, the pain making his eyes water. Greg had stepped away, horrified, his hands raised and shaking like he couldn’t decide if it was okay to reach out and touch him again.</p><p>“Oh, oh shit! I’m so sorry, Tom, I didn’t mean to do that.” Greg blubbered guiltily. He brought one hand near Tom’s face and Tom swatted it away. “Wait, please, I’m sorry. Let me see if you’re like, bleeding, or whatever.”</p><p>Tom laughed once. Dryly, sarcastically. “Make up your fucking mind, Greg, are you hurting me or helping me?”</p><p>“I could ask you the same question,” Greg huffed, and Tom was so baffled by the comment that he didn’t push Greg’s hands away as they rose to cradle his face.</p><p>Greg's long fingers were incredibly gentle. It was so easy for Tom to melt into the touch and allow him to tilt his head back. He watched the way Greg’s brows furrowed as he inspected his nose. Almost instinctively, Tom’s gaze flickered down to the mole above his lips.</p><p>“No blood,” Greg said quietly. “I really didn’t mean to—”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Tom tried to ignore the steady rise of his own pulse. Greg’s hands did not move from his face. “I barely felt it, anyway.”</p><p>There was a long moment where nothing happened. They just stood there, the awkwardness of the moment rearing back up on the tension of their conversation. It seemed like if they moved again, they would have to talk, and if they talked, they would launch right back into one argument or another. So they just stood there, with Greg stupidly holding his face, and Tom’s heart beating stupidly, traitorously fast.</p><p>It would’ve been weirder if Greg <i>hadn’t</i> leaned down and kissed him, really. Tom was not so much surprised by the feeling of Greg's lips against his own as he was grateful for them being there, because finally, <i>finally</i> this was something that made sense. It wasn’t as if he had been compiling a list of all the things he wanted to do to physically unravel Greg Hirsch, but the thoughts began to arrive so steadily in Tom’s mind, one after another, that they may as well have always been there.</p><p>Greg’s hands moved from their hold on his face down to his neck, and then just like that, his tongue was in Tom’s mouth. It was a welcome development, to say the least. Tom leaned up and bit at Greg’s bottom lip, grabbing him by the waist of his ridiculous pajama pants and holding him steady, their hips barely grazing each other. Tom wasn’t used to kissing someone taller than him, and it was oddly exhilarating. It was as if he were chasing after Greg’s mouth, and the exercise of keeping pace with it was surreal and exciting. Eventually, Greg pulled out of the kiss gasping, the high, needy sound of it shooting through Tom like a rush of adrenaline.</p><p>“Should we— mmf?” Greg started to ask, but Tom cut him off with another kiss. This time sloppier, sexier. It was a while before Greg was able to tear himself away again, and Tom enjoyed taking credit for that. When they finally broke apart, there was a torn expression on Greg’s face, and it looked for a moment as if he was forcing himself to say the right thing. “Are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p>Tom couldn’t resist teasing him. It was just too easy. “Do what, Greg?”</p><p>Sighing, Greg pulled him back into his space again, hands sliding down to Tom's shoulders. “You’re such an asshole.”</p><p>“I’m kidding,” Tom mumbled, kissing his neck, then the underside of his jaw. “Of course I want this, come on. I know what I’m doing.”</p><p>There was an uncomfortable pause, the kind that Tom could only assume came up in these situations of infidelity. He’d never cheated on anyone before, aside from the bizarre exchange at his bachelor party that Shiv had encouraged. And even if their marriage was open— allegedly to both parties— Tom knew that he was definitely stepping into red-flag territory by hooking up with his wife’s cousin. </p><p>Saying he knew what he was doing was also a flat out lie. Tom had never slept with another man, no matter how many tempting  fantasies and wet dreams his subconscious had sent his way over the years. He'd never been brave enough to seek it out, to ask for it. The closest he'd gotten was a drunken, violent kiss at a frat party with one of the guys from their neighboring school's soccer team. Tom had never even gotten his name.</p><p>Greg was just standing there and <i>looking</i> at him with those sad puppy eyes. If Tom shoved him away, if he told him to pretend this never happened, Greg would probably just take it. Accept his fate with his chin up and a stiff upper lip, even if it hurt him. He was good like that.</p><p>But Tom wasn't anywhere near as good as him.</p><p>"Come here," he said, trying to sound authoritative and not desperate. He met Greg's gaze and sighed, tilting his head back. "Please."</p><p>Greg barely hesitated. He was kissing Tom again in seconds, this time faster, with more desperation behind it. Whatever tonsil hockey they'd been engaging in a few minutes ago felt awfully chaste in comparison to this. </p><p>"I wish you were in a suit," Tom panted as soon as his mouth was free again. "I'd love to take it off you."</p><p>Greg was already shrugging out of his open shirt. "Yeah? Well, I mean, I could go grab one, but that seems kind of counterproductive."</p><p>Though Tom was not seriously considering it, the idea of Greg doing whatever he asked, even now, sent a bit of a thrill through him.  "Would you? Would you seriously go put one on?"</p><p>A pause, and then Greg sort of laughed. "Not unless you were wearing one, too."</p><p>To punctuate his point, Greg started to tug Tom's sweater out from where it was tucked into his pants. Tom couldn't help being a bit snide in return. "This is cashmere, and I paid out the ass for it. If you so much as cause one wrinkle, I'm billing you for the dry cleaning."</p><p>"Got it," Greg chuckled, and the low, breathless sound of it caused a sudden heat to prickle in Tom's ears, one that crept all the way down to his spine. He was so caught up in watching Greg's hands on his belt that he forgot this was his cue to take the rest of his shirt off. Greg caught his gaze again, looking shy. "Wanna go to my room?"</p><p>"Oh? You mean it wasn't your intention to ravish me on your dining room table?" Tom wished he didn't feel the need to make jokes like this. He wasn't helping anyone. Cringing at himself, he nodded. "Yeah, obviously, let's go."</p><p>Mercifully, Greg didn't say anything, he just took one of Tom's wrists in his hand and pulled him further into the apartment. He didn't need to lead the way, really. Tom had been in his room before, albeit under completely different circumstances. The night that he'd stayed over in that failure of an intimidation tactic, he'd strongly suggested that Greg sleep on the couch, and of course, Greg had accepted that arrangement. For days afterwards, Tom would find himself remembering how easily he'd fallen asleep in those low quality, polyester sheets. They had smelled so familiar and comforting that it was almost obscene.</p><p>The bedroom itself happened to be the only part of Greg's apartment that seemed authentic. Everything else was pristine and white, and there was an unfortunate lack of furnishing under the guise of a minimalist aesthetic. Kendall had obviously helped Greg pick out what little furniture he owned, and most of it looked ripped straight from a catalogue, like one of those built-in bachelor package orders that Tom used to have in his late twenties before he realized it made him look like too much of a poser. But not Greg's room. It was littered with clothes, empty mugs, and bowls. He had a flatscreen television mounted on top of an old dresser, and attached to it was a mess of cords stretching out to various gaming consoles and DVD players. His bedside table had a bong on it that looked as if it had seen better days, along with a Bluetooth speaker with a built in clock. In other words, the place was a mess, but it was unmistakably Greg's, and for that, Tom was inexplicably fond of it.</p><p>"Wasn't expecting company," Greg said sheepishly when he opened the door, and then then promptly scrambled to throw some of his discarded clothes into his hamper. "Again."</p><p>Tom decided not to make any more jokes. After all, he had made plenty the last time he'd visited when he was watching Greg shamefully clean his room from the doorway. <i>"It's like the world's most unprofessional Airbnb. You'd be a terrible innkeeper. God, is that mold?"</i></p><p>Just then, the reality of what was happening seemed to set in. They had kissed. They were going to fuck. Tom leaned his back against the wall and watched Greg shuffle around, tidying the place up, stricken by déja-vu. He was acutely aware of the fact that this was probably a very bad idea. Perhaps the worst idea he'd ever had.</p><p>And then Greg was looking at him again, smiling hesitantly, and Tom forgot all about being his usual neurotic, disastrous self. When he left his spot on the wall, and got his hands back on Greg's waist, he became something else. Something he liked better.</p><p>Greg kissed him again, eagerly but carefully. Tom melted into it, wanting more, trying not to get frustrated when Greg reared back again. He looked at Tom's lips with concentrated focus. "What do you want me to do?"</p><p>The question boiled its way down to the pit of Tom's stomach. There were so many things he wanted from Greg in that moment that it felt impossible to choose just one. Stupidly, Tom blurted out the first thing that came into his head. "Don't leave." </p><p>He didn't have to clarify that he meant. It was obvious from the pained expression that crossed over Greg's face that he understood well enough. </p><p>Sighing, Greg raked a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up out of his face. "I don't— I don't want this to be like breakup sex. We aren't even together."</p><p>"It sure <i>feels</i> like breakup sex, though, doesn't it?" Tom shook his head. "I mean, you're leaving the country." </p><p>"Yeah, but not right this second." Greg protested weakly. "I don't know, I could still be persuaded not to go."</p><p>Tom couldn't fight the hope in his voice. "You could?"</p><p>"Yeah," said Greg quietly, avoiding eye contact. "Maybe if Ken comes back, and if he needs someone around to help out. I don't know."</p><p>"That's the only reason you'd stick around, hmm?" Tom tried to keep his tone light, flirtatious. His hands snaked around to the small of Greg's back. "Not for anything else?"</p><p>"Well," Greg laughed nervously as Tom leaned in to kiss his neck. "There's tons of food I'd miss here. The restaurants, I mean."</p><p>"Uh huh," Tom bit at his throat. "What else?"</p><p>Something close to a whine bubbled out of Greg before he was able to speak again. When he did, his voice was a bit strained. "Central park. I still haven't managed to walk around the whole thing."</p><p>"No one has, it's fucking huge." Tom scoffed, then resumed his task. After mouthing over Greg's Adam's apple, Tom asked, "What else?" </p><p>"Um," Greg exhaled shakily. "You?"</p><p>Tom stopped what he was doing, pulled back, and raised an eyebrow. "You gave in awfully quick."</p><p>Greg dragged his hand over his face, awkwardly scratching his cheek. "I know, I know you were trying to be sexy about it, but to be honest, I kind of suck at being coy. I'll miss you, okay? I'll miss you."</p><p>Tom's chest felt tight. He couldn't say it back, so he just stood on the tips of his toes and pulled Greg into a proper kiss. A cinematic one, really. Tom had never realized he'd had it in him to kiss someone like this until today. Or maybe he had, but it had been so long that he'd forgotten.</p><p>"Greg," Tom whispered as they parted for air. Just his name. Nothing else.</p><p>"Yeah," Greg shut his eyes tight and nodded, his nose and eyelashes lightly grazing the side of Tom's face. "I know."</p><p>Tom could've made fun of him for that. It wasn't as if he had said anything out loud that warranted a breathless <i>I know</i>. But he didn't seem to have the heart to mock Greg for being emotionally perceptive.</p><p>Instead, Tom kissed him again, and again, and again. He let Greg back him up against the bed and didn't complain when he started tugging at his sweater again. While Tom worked on getting his arms out of his sleeves, Greg unbuckled his belt for him, his fingers surprisingly nimble and moving with practiced ease. It suddenly occurred to Tom that he hadn't even asked if Greg was gay.</p><p>"You've been with other guys, right?" He blurted without thinking. Greg looked up from where he was in the process of unbuttoning Tom's pants, bewildered.</p><p>"Uh, yeah?" His eyes widened. "Wait, have you not?"</p><p>Mortified, Tom had to fight the urge to hide his face under his freshly removed sweater. "Look, we can't all grow up in magical Canada, the land where homophobia doesn't exist."</p><p>"That's not even remotely accurate," Greg frowned. "But whatever— this is seriously your first time?"</p><p>Tom made a vague gesture. "Well, yeah. With a real penis."</p><p>Greg's mouth dropped open and then snapped shut again. He blinked several times. "You mean you've used, like, dildos and stuff?"</p><p>It was moments like these that made Tom think that he was cursed to repeatedly embarrass himself. "Seriously? Men get pegged, Greg. This is the twenty-first century. Grow up."</p><p>"Oh, okay, right," said Greg wearily. "But you do know that this is a completely different thing?</p><p>"Obviously! I'm not an idiot." Tom was doing a very bad job at not sounding panicked. "You don't have to treat me like some blushing virgin, Greg. I get the gist of things."</p><p>Shaking his head, Greg stood back up to his full height. Petulantly, Tom tilted his head back to keep their gazes level.</p><p>"We don't have to go all the way, you know." Greg shifted on his feet a little nervously. "I could just, I dunno, give you a blowjob? If you want?"</p><p>It took Tom a minute to recover from that particular suggestion. Finally, when his head stopped swimming from the mental image, he cleared his throat. "I'm not opposed to that idea, but if this is breakup sex, then I don't see the point of you holding out on me."</p><p>"This isn't breakup sex." Greg huffed.</p><p>"Minor detail. Look, I'll cut right to the chase." Tom had paused for effect, but then suddenly found it hard to admit what he was about to say out loud. It didn't help that Greg was watching him so intently. With great effort, Tom took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked him right in the eye. "I want you to fuck me. And I don't intend on letting you leave this apartment, let alone this city, until you do."</p><p>Greg laughed, but it sounded sort of strangled. His lips were caught in a shaky, confused smile that Tom was unwarrantedly fond of. "Are you— Are you asking me or threatening me?"</p><p>Tom shrugged. He didn't have a clear answer.</p><p>Sobering a little, Greg managed to straighten out his face into a more serious expression. "Well, I think you ought to ask me. And I think you should ask nicely."</p><p>Smirking, Tom held his gaze. "Greg, would like to you fuck me?"</p><p>Greg's lips twitched, but otherwise he managed to keep his face slack. "I said to ask nicely, not rhetorically."</p><p>Tom couldn't help laughing. He patted Greg's chest with the back of his hand like he was clapping off a sportsman. "Alright, alright. I didn't think you had it in you, man, but you're a little alpha dog in the bedroom, aren't you? It's cute. Now, would you fuck me? <i>Please?</i>"</p><p>"You know," Greg leaned back on his feet, tapping one finger against his chin. He looked pretty close to cracking up himself. "I don't think that was nice enough, Tom."</p><p>"Wow, okay. Petty vengeance, I can dig it." Tom shook his head, then put on his best begging face. He might not have Greg's puppy dog eyes to work with, but he at least had <i>something</i>. "Greg, would you please, pretty please with a metaphorical cherry on top, let me ride your dick? Because it's all I've wanted to do for nearly a year now, and I am going to go fully insane if I don't."</p><p>"See, that sounded kind of like a threat again." Greg mumbled, his face pink and his eyes hazy.  "Have you really wanted to for that long?"</p><p>"What do you think?" Tom said a bit shrilly. "Of course I thought about it. Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?"</p><p>Mercifully, Greg leaned down and kissed him again. His skin was hot under Tom's hands, flushed from the praise, and Tom tucked that observation away for later. This time, he was determined not to interrupt the action with any more embarrassing conversations.</p><p>Things escalated. Pretty soon Tom found himself on his back, with Greg pinning him down against the bed, looming over him like a giant. Tom trailed his hands down Greg's long torso until he found his waist again and pulled his hips downwards,  bucking up to meet him so they could grind like a couple of horny college kids. They were both so hard already that it was almost pathetic.</p><p>"Could get messy," Greg panted into his mouth, which was <i>hot</i>. "I don't mind, but if you do, we can still switch tracks."</p><p>"Greg," Tom didn't mean to whine, but he did anyway. "I really don't care. Just get your dick in there already."</p><p>"Right," Greg croaked. "On it."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>One hour and three orgasms later, Tom found himself in Greg's shower working his way towards a fourth.</p><p>Water trickled down Greg's straight nose in perfect little beads. He was leaning back against the wall as Tom immersed himself in the soapy handjob he was giving him. Steam was clouding the mirror and the glass doors, and the condensation was making Tom feel almost sweaty, like he was in a sauna. He reached to turn the cool water up a notch, and Greg moaned when his hands and focus left him.</p><p>"Needy little fucker, aren't you?" Tom chuckled, but whatever smug comment he was about to make next perished in his mind as he watched Greg get down on his knees in front of him. The stream of the shower water rained over Tom's shoulder and spilled directly onto the back of Greg's neck, but he didn't seem to mind. He just grabbed Tom's hips and held him steady.</p><p>It was over ridiculously fast, but to be fair, Tom had never been sucked off in a shower before. Shiv had always preferred baths, and she also seemed particularly keen on keeping self-grooming and fucking separate. Tom had never complained, he'd been perfectly content just shampooing her hair and massassing her feet. But now that he knew what he was missing out on, he was hit with retroactive disappointment.</p><p>It seemed Tom was full of regrets. And at the very top of his list was not letting Greg kiss him during Logan's stupid, eightieth birthday party.</p><p>"We could've been doing this the whole time," Tom complained, after he had returned Greg's favour and they were towelling themselves dry. "I'm such an idiot, when did <i>you</i> first start thinking about it?"</p><p>Greg draped a towel over Tom's head and rubbed it over his neck and hair, a painfully domestic gesture he seemed to make with no awareness. He bit his lip as he thought about his answer. "That night we got really drunk, after we ate those gross tasting song birds."</p><p>"Yeah?" Tom winced. Greg had liked him <i>before</i> he was married. "That long?"</p><p>Greg nodded, pulling the towel down over Tom's shoulders and tugging him closer. "I mean, I really thought about it when we were in Hungary. After you didn't rat me out. I realized you weren't actually trying to ruin my life."</p><p>"Sorry," Tom said stupidly. "I should have never made you sign out those papers."</p><p>Shaking his head, Greg smiled a bit ruefully. "Well, they came in handy, didn't they?"</p><p>"Ugh," Tom leaned forward and let his head fall against Greg's shoulder, which was still damp and smelled strongly of the vanilla bodywash that they'd both shared. "Do you really have to go?"</p><p>"Yeah," Greg murmured, kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that this would ever happen."</p><p>"Well, it's happening." Tom nestled his face into the crook of Greg's neck. "I suppose I could find some way to fly out to Canada every other weekend. We do have offices up there."</p><p>Greg took a step back, and Tom tried not to pout at the sudden absence of his warm skin. When he caught sight of Greg's expression, he was suddenly worried that he'd said something insane.</p><p>"You said you wanted to come with me," Greg said very carefully. "Well, then, isn't that your way out? A transfer?"</p><p>Tom did a very admirable job at stopping himself from laughing. He just looked at Greg with wide eyes and shook his head.</p><p>"Just think about it," Greg raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, or in this case, negotiation. "You told me once that you were worried they'd send you off to Hong Kong to get you out of the way. Well, why not Canada?"</p><p>It wasn't a <i>terrible</i> idea. But it was still completely ludicrous. </p><p>"I can't leave Shiv," Tom said, already regretting it. "I can't."</p><p>"Okay," Greg raised his hands again, relenting. "It's just something to think about."</p><p>Thoughtfully, Tom hummed, mulling over his options. He was grateful when Greg kissed him again, as if to distract him from his own suggestion.</p><p>"I have to get back," Tom said mournfully when they broke apart. "Can I come by tomorrow?"</p><p>Greg nodded. "Sure. Maybe I'll have some updates on Kendall's situation by then."</p><p>"One can only hope," Tom sighed, and then he kissed Greg quickly before he could change his mind. "Thank you, by the way. This has all been very enlightening."</p><p>Seeming to not know how to respond to that, Greg kissed him again. A proper goodbye kiss, long and sappy. They didn't say anything else to each other until they were both dressed, and Tom was on his way out the door.</p><p>"See you," Greg whispered, his fingers curling lightly around Tom's wrist before he let go of his arm.</p><p>"Yeah," Tom murmured, finding it very hard to take the last steps out of the apartment. "Tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Shiv had only sent Tom two texts in the period of his absence, one to let him know where she was meeting Gerri and one to let him know she was going to meet with some other shareholders to talk strategy and try and keep them from selling out. Tom was home before she was.</p><p>He showered again, just to get the smell of Greg's bodywash off of him. As guilty as it made him feel, he didn't think it was worth the risk. Tom wasn't even sure who it was that he felt like he was cheating on at this point.</p><p>When Shiv finally got back, it was close to midnight, and she fell onto the sofa next to Tom with her usual beautiful, terrifying grace. He asked her how he'd day went and she told him everything she thought was worth hearing, including the fact that Kendall had indeed reunited with Noami Pierce. They only knew because some paps had caught a picture of the two of them in Paris and sent it Katalina's way.</p><p>"I think it's kind of romantic," Tom admitted. "Throwing everything away like that and then chasing after her. It seems like the poet's choice."</p><p>"Most poets died young and miserable," Shiv rolled her eyes. "Not to mention broke."</p><p>Tom couldn't argue with that.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The next week passed in a blur. Tom was back at ATN, dealing with bullshit news that was downplaying Logan's involvement in cruises. Miraculously, Greg came into the office too, but only for three days. Everyone besides Tom gave him a wide berth, sensing his importance, suspecting that he had a greater role in the grand scheme of things. They'd all seen or heard of the press conference. It was total chaos.</p><p>On his first day back, Tom went directly to payroll to make sure Greg was fired with a <i>generous</i> severence package. When Greg found out, he came barging into Tom's office and then just stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room. He looked at Tom, then back at the door to see if anyone was watching, then back to Tom again, fidgeting like a nervous, oversized squirrel.</p><p>"Thank you." He finally managed to say, breathless and utterly sincere.</p><p>"You don't have to thank me." Tom told him, trying put on a relaxed smile. "It's a cleaner move, anyway. Actually makes me look a little better in Cyd and the big guy's eyes."</p><p>"Right," Greg sounded unconvinced. "But still, thanks. You didn't have to do that."</p><p>Tom's shoulders sagged, giving in. Greg was too genuine for his own good. "Come on, of course I did. I told you I'm not completely useless."</p><p>Greg glanced back towards the door and windows again. "I really want to hug you right now but that'd be weird, right?"</p><p>"It'd be extremely weird," Tom agreed. "I'll drop by your place later tonight, alright? Then we can actually hash this out without fear of the prying eyes from the cubicles."</p><p>"Okay," Greg smiled, all shy and goofy. "I guess I'll see you then."</p><p>When he left, Tom had to hide his face in his hands for a solid minute against his desk to recover. It seemed impossible that one human being could posses so much charm, but he supposed that Greg had the real estate to house it.</p><p>That evening, he spent nearly three hours at Greg's apartment, and most of that time was spent undressed in his bed. He spent even more time there the next day. On Wednesday, when Greg was packing up his office into boxes, Tom hired the car that drove him home, and tipped the driver extra to get them to help him carry his stuff. Greg thanked Tom for that later with a rather stupendous blowjob, but that was neither here nor there.</p><p>"I've been texting Kendall," Greg admitted on Friday night, while Tom was pulling off his tie. "He said he's not coming back to America for a while, he's just leaving shit up to his lawyers. And he also told me it was okay if I wanted to leave."</p><p>Tom paused, stomach plummeting. He'd been trying very hard not to think about Greg's getaway plans.</p><p>"My Grandpa knows a guy in Toronto," Greg pressed on. "Said he could get me on the ground floor of his company. Six figure salary, so, you know, not <i>bad</i>."</p><p>Tom laughed, he just couldn't help it. "Greg, we've literally eaten six figures for breakfast."</p><p>"I know," Greg bit his bottom lip. Tom had to resist the urge to do the same. "I'm just letting you know that, like, I'm gonna be okay. When I get there, I mean. I'm not going to be homeless again, I can afford a hotel while I look for an apartment. I've already got a few Craigslist posts bookmarked."</p><p>As much as it pained him, Tom knew that he had to ask. "When were you planning on leaving?"</p><p>"Next week," Greg answered, frowning. "Probably Thursday? I'm driving there. Since I'm not bringing any furniture with me, I figured I'd just take my van."</p><p>"And your grandpa hates air travel, so you get bonus points there." Tom remembered with a solemn nod. "That's really fucking soon, Greg. That's less than a week."</p><p>"I know," Greg sounded just as distraught as Tom felt. "But I can't stay here, I'm just so anxious all the time. Logan's lawyers sent me some pretty intense emails the other day."</p><p>This information hadn't made its way down the telephone line to Tom yet, and it caught him off guard. "They did? What did they say?"</p><p>"Uh," Greg gestured frantically. "They kind, threatened me to give up information on Kendall? Offered me money, protection. It was all just bullshit to get me to confirm my involvement in the documents. I ignored them."</p><p>"Smart move," Tom was relieved it wasnt anything more serious, but he knew those emails were probably the first of many. "God, maybe it is better if you get out of all this."</p><p>They were both quiet for a while after that, too unsettled to go back to making out.</p><p>Tom looked at Greg, standing there nervously pulling at the sleeves of his Tommy Hilfiger sweater, his wide eyes glancing helplessly around the room, and he knew that he loved him. That he had been in love with him for a while.</p><p>"I need to talk to Shiv." Tom said, startling them both. "I'm going to ask her about that transfer."</p><p>Greg's eyes got even wider, if that was possible. He pulled Tom up into a crushing, wonderful hug that was so surprising and gentle that it made Tom want to curl right into him and cry like a little kid.</p><p>"Don't celebrate just yet," he mumbled against Greg's cheek. "There's no guarantee she'll let me go."</p><p>"Yeah but you're still <i>asking</i>." Greg sounded elated. "That's something."</p><p>Maybe it was something. Maybe it was enough to make the decision even if he didn't know if he could follow through with it. Tom tried to share Greg's enthusiasm for the moment, but mostly, he just felt terrified. The thought of disappointing his wife and parents made his stomach twist, but that was nothing compared to the dull, empty fear he felt over the thought of not seeing Greg on a regular basis.</p><p>He held onto Greg as tight as he could, and didn't let go of him for the rest of his visit.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Canada," Shiv scrunched up her face as if the word itself had tasted sour. "Really?"</p><p>"You can't tell me Logan hasn't been considering shipping me off to Beijing since that clusterfuck court appearance." Tom was struggling to keep his voice detached, reasonable. "Well, why not just move me somewhere close by? I mean, it sends a pretty clear message about how expendible I am, and it gets me pulled out of the crossfire." </p><p>"You're not expendible, Tom." Shiv frowned. "And this wasn't our plan."</p><p>"No offense, but I think the plan has changed. You're better off trying to get work at PGM now that Kendall's blown Waystar to bits."</p><p>Shiv paced around their living room with her hands on her hips. Tom watched her, knowing exactly when she would pause, exactly which chair she would choose to run her fingers over in a thoughtful drum. He wondered if she knew the same things about him, his little ticks and eccentricities. Probably not.</p><p>After a lengthy sigh, Shiv turned to look at him again. "I mean, I'll have to run it by everyone. But it's not a terrible idea. This is strictly temporary, of course. We're talking a year at most."</p><p>"Of course," Tom nodded, heart soaring. He couldn't believe she was agreeing. "It's not permanent."</p><p>Shiv crossed the room and grabbed his hand, squeezing tight. "This isn't about you running away from <i>me</i>, is it? Because I was serious about talking things through— we can do couples counselling. Whatever we can to make this work."</p><p>"I love you, Shiv." Tom said, meaning it. "But you don't actually want me around. If you did, you wouldn't even consider letting me go. I'm kind of throwing you a line here."</p><p>He half expected her to fight him on that point, but she didn't. She just squeezed his hand again, not quite meeting his gaze.</p><p>"It doesn't have to be a big thing," Tom lifted his free hand to cup her cheek, tucking some hair behind her ear with his thumb. "If you really want me to stay, then I will. But we won't be any happier, and I think you know that."</p><p>Shiv's eyes were glossy when she finally glanced up at his face again. She always looked quite pretty right before she was about to cry. It was something Tom had always found baffling about her.</p><p>"I'll miss you," she said at last, kissing the palm of Tom's hand. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "I really will."</p><p>"But you're not asking me to stay?"</p><p>She touched the side of his cheek, mirroring him. "Did you want me to?"</p><p>"I don't know," he admitted, leaning into the contact. "I guess I kind of hoped that you would."</p><p>Shiv's hand fell down to his chest, wiping imaginary dust off the lapel of his jacket. "You've always had too much faith in me."</p><p>She wasn't exactly wrong.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>By Tuesday, Tom had gotten confirmation on his transfer. It was done so hastily that he almost suspected that all the necessary files had been filled out beforehand, just waiting until they were needed. He was now acting as chief executive management for the the Toronto, Ottawa, and Quebec branches of Waystar-Royco's magazine print presses. Tom had never been so happy in his life to be demoted. </p><p>He saw Greg off on Thursday, standing awkwardly in the parking lot of the now vacant apartment building while he helped load the last of Greg's boxes into his trunk. It seemed insane to Tom that Greg owned so little. He barely even remembered the fact that Greg was living out of a single suitcase when he first got to the city.</p><p>It was also impossible not to notice how beat up Greg's car was on top of everything else. The thing was an eyesore. Tom was glad he was going to be flying first class to Toronto instead of sitting in the passenger seat of this sad, scrappy excuse of a vehicle.</p><p>"I booked a room at the Four Seasons," Greg reminded Tom for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "It's not a suite or anything, but it should still be nice. You're coming up next Sunday?"</p><p>"Uh huh," Tom was in a state of shock. He hadn't actually expected either of them to make an unscathed escaped. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I'll look you up as soon as I'm there."</p><p>"Cool," Greg grinned, and then leaned down to hug him. "I'm really glad you're coming. I think it's the right thing for you."</p><p>"Drive safe, okay?" Tom squeezed Greg's shoulders before they broke apart. "Let me know if this hunk of junk breaks down and I'll send a rescue team."</p><p>"Yeah, alright." Greg chuckled, smiling fondly in a way that made Tom's throat feel tight.</p><p>Right before Greg moved to get in the car Tom stopped him. "Hey, Greg?"</p><p>Greg paused, waiting for him to go on. Tom couldn't. He didn't have the words.</p><p>Finally, he managed to settle on one. "Thanks."</p><p>And Tom knew from the way that Greg's smile softened that he'd understood what he meant.</p>
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